The Invisible Goddess: Suchitra Sen

Raima Sen We brought in my grandmother Suchitra Sen's 81st birthday on April 6 without much fanfare. We gath

Raima Sen

We brought in my grandmother Suchitra Sen's 81st birthday on April 6 without much fanfare. We gathered at our Ballygunge home and ordered Chinese for lunch from Red Hot Chilli Pepper and a Mughlai dinner from Chote Nawab. She has been away from the public gaze for nearly two decades now. But people ask us all the time about my legendary grandmother and why she has chosen to live like a recluse. It requires tremendous willpower to be able to totally give up a life of stardom and we have always respected her privacy. Surprisingly, we have never once felt the need to discover the reason behind her decision. For me, she is just my Amma, someone I love to be around when I am home.

As children, my sister Riya and I would stay over at her place on weekends or even go out with her after school. We would sometimes go to AC Market in Kolkata to buy little things such as pencil boxes and erasers and she would always wear sunglasses that would cover three-fourths of her face. She wore saris or salwar suits and a dupatta over her head. In spite of that, people would recognise her and chase her for autographs.

When we were younger, we were surrounded by many beautiful women. Besides my superstar grandmother, of course, we had my mother (Moonmoon Sen), Gayatri Devi (my paternal grand aunt) and all the lovely ladies from the royal families of Cooch Behar and Jaipur. My father ensured that we had a normal upbringing and were not at all affected or awestruck. Seeing our mother dressing up for film shoots, our choice of profession was almost a given: We were seduced by the glamour of the job.

Suchitra Sen

Years later, after I had stepped into the world of films, I sat down to watch her films and was amazed by the dignity she exuded in each of her films. Her characters are so strongly imprinted in people's minds that I would never attempt to do something close to that. Just the fact that she came from a regular middle-class family and achieved so much is definitely a great source of inspiration.

Among my grandmother's films that I like most are Harano Sur (Bengali, 1957), Saat Paake Bandha (Bengali, 1963), Aandhi (Hindi, 1975), and Datta (Bengali, 1976). She looks stunning in every frame, and manages to get maximum attention for her histrionics. Her bold yet restrained performances in each of them have been great acting lessons. Aarti Devi's character in Aandhi is my absolute favourite; the sophistication and elegance that she portrayed on screen is difficult to match.

She had not seen any of our films until last year when she happened to catch Anuranan (Bengali, 2006) on television. Later she told me she had liked me so much in the film that she saw it four times and that I should work more often with Tony (Aniruddha Roy Chowdhury, director of Anuranan). When she expressed her desire to watch more of my films, I showed her Rituparno Ghosh's Noukadubi (Bengali, 2011), which she also liked very much. In fact, it was my grandmother who read out to me both the texts of Noukadubi and Chokher Bali (Bengali, 2003) and helped me understand the characters well.

When I was preparing for Kadambari's role in the yet-untitled documentary on Tagore (being directed by Rituparno Ghosh), she explained the character to me and how it is different from that of Hemnalini (of Noukadubi). Recently, I showed her some photographs of a shoot and she commented on how I should not have my hands so prominently in the frame because they take attention away from my face. She gives acting tips once in a while and shares innumerable anecdotes from her past, including those from her films with Uttam Kumar like Sare Chuattar (Bengali, 1953), Sagarika (Bengali, 1956), Pathey Holo Deri (Bengali, 1957), Chaowa Paowa (Bengali, 1959) and Saptapadi (Bengali, 1961). They would always try to upstage each other while delivering dialogues but it was all in jest. In those days, acting required a lot of struggle as well as determination and it was after her success that a showbiz career began to be respected. Nobody was allowed on her film sets; people were petrified of her, I guess.

A few years ago, she refused the Dadasaheb Phalke Award because she was not willing to step out to receive the award. Sometimes we tell her she should come along with us to Mumbai and although she says she will, we know that's never going to happen. She never really liked Mumbai and although she talks occasionally of Sanjeev Kumar, her co-star in Aandhi, as one of the greatest actors she has known, she could never make Mumbai her own. She has always loved Kolkata dearly.

Now that she lives next door to us, we have our meals together whenever we are in Kolkata. I complain to her that I put on weight whenever I visit her because she stuffs me with so much food every time. She does not offer advice about diets but points out that I must go to the gym regularly. She does not meet anyone except her doctor and a few relatives, but she is extremely sharp and clued in to all that's happening around us. She reads voraciously, mostly Bengali literature, and spends a lot of time praying. Amma often comments about how I look so much like her. As for me, I am just happy to be her little doll.

- As told to Tithi Sarkar

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